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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313545">The Beginning is Always Today</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomramblings/pseuds/fandomramblings'>fandomramblings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Malex Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Brother Gregory Manes, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malex Week 2020, Minor Character Death, Minor Forrest Long/Alex Manes, Music, POV Alex Manes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season 2, Talking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:28:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomramblings/pseuds/fandomramblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Alex Manes after his father’s death. The title is a Mary Shelly quote. Find me on Tumblr as malex-art!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Manes &amp; Gregory Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Malex Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Beginning is Always Today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Malex Week 2020 Day 4. Prompt: Free Day. The first fic I’ve ever written! I did it on a whim so please be nice. It’s sort of Malex but it’s mostly Alex and his thought process during a single day taking place shortly after Jesse’s death. Canon compliant.</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>There are no more Manes men left. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alex Manes tossed and turned in his bed, gripping the pillow around his head, which was pounding. He sat up suddenly, fed up with trying to get to sleep. He had tried to close his eyes, but there was too much pavement, and too much blood, and that stupid Crash Con lanyard, splayed out, almost glowing green against the ground. He could hear the distant fireworks and see his father’s face as he lay there bleeding out. He grabbed his crutch from its spot leaning against the bedside table and planted his remaining foot on the carpeted floor. Putting one hand against the backboard of the bed he stood up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Greg had done it. His brother had done it. Alex knew Greg. He knew that he would have said he had no choice, and maybe he didn’t. Jesse was unstable, to say the least, and Michael’s life was in danger. It didn’t take a trained soldier to see that. But his brother had done it. His brother killed his father. Alex thought about all the things Jesse had done, all of the things he would have done. He thought about all the things he had done, all that Flint had done. They were free now. He should feel free. But his leg was still missing, and Michael was still with Maria and it didn’t matter if Jesse was dead, Alex Manes was still his father’s son.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He headed into the bathroom and checked the clock on the wall. 4:15 am. Years ago, after basic training, he would have nights like this. He used to go for runs to tire himself out, but that wasn’t an option anymore. He brushed his teeth and then took his clean liner that was hanging to dry and headed back to the bed. Plopping down he tried to rub the tiredness out of his eyes. Closing them again was a mistake. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>You don’t know what he is son. </em>Alex could picture the atomizer clutched in his father’s hand and his fingers moved reflexively as if to grab at it. He opened his eyes and groaned. Yeah, sleeping was not an option. After attaching the prosthetic he limped around the room a bit to adjust. It had felt a little weird after he got it back from Flint but he had gone without it for quite a while, sitting on that crummy mattress. He headed out into the kitchen and sipped some leftover coffee. It tasted terrible, but he finished the cup anyway. Then he stood there, hands on the counter. The day loomed out ahead of him. Jesse was gone. He finally had it, this chance to make his own life. For real this time. And it terrified him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was around noon when there was a knock on the door. Alex got up from the piano bench and sat his song notebook down on the keyboard. He had tried to write. He’d managed a few lines, they were about his father. Shocker there. When he opened the front door he found Greg standing there. He didn’t look as sleep-deprived as him. Alex breathed in relief.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How was your night?” Greg asked. He knew Alex too well. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alex motioned for him to come in. “Long.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Greg nodded. “Not to rub it in,” he said grinning, “but I slept surprisingly well. I feel lighter.” He plopped down on the couch. “Writing something?” Alex sat down on the bench again, his back to the keyboard this time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Trying to.” He shrugged. He had managed to complete the chorus a few weeks ago with help from Forrest but he still needed another verse, and something was missing at the end.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” Greg said, taking a deep breath and planting his hands on his knees. “Writers' block is no problem! We just need to get your mind on something else for a while.” Alex raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on,” Greg said, standing up and holding out his hand. I rented a dumpster!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Soon they were pulling up at the Manes house. Greg wasn’t kidding. There was a dumpster parked in the driveway. It was large, rusty, and orange. Peeling letters on the side said ‘Hometown Dumpster Rental’. Alex got out of the car, leading with his good leg. The prosthetic still felt weird. Greg was already at the front door. Alex caught up with him as he was working a key into the old lock. You had to wiggle it in a certain direction to get the door to open. It made the familiar rattling noise as Greg worked. Alex had almost forgotten how loud the house was. All the doors creaked, the floors too. And that front door. It used to drive him crazy! As if sneaking out wasn’t hard enough as it was. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He could have replaced this lock,” Greg muttered. “I mean it's not like he didn’t have the money. And god forbid if he ever spent any on anything that would have benefited all of us. Not just him.” He was still having trouble.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think if you hold the handle up while you…” Alex was interrupted by the sound of the door finally clicking open. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Greg bumped the door frame with his fist. “The last time I’m doing that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alex smiled. “So what room to start in?” The brothers looked at each other. “Office,” they said in unison. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next few hours were a lot of fun. Greg put Counting Crows on the old CD player and they loaded all of Jesse’s paper files in a huge box for Alex to sort through later. Then they topped it off with Jesse’s computer and loaded the whole thing into Greg’s car. Alex debated throwing it all out but there could be important information buried in all the crap. They dragged the old filing cabinet out and heaved it into the dumpster. All of Jesse’s army uniforms, that he kept in a closet in his office, went in after it. After the office, they moved onto the kitchen. Greg suggested they make a game of getting rid of the old dishes. They stood at different distances from the dumpster and hurled plates and bowls through the air. They often missed, so Greg spent some time sweeping them off the pavement, while Alex struggled to drag the couch out into the yard. It was about three o’clock when a car pulled up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This uh,” Maria DeLuca said as she approached them, hands on her hips. “Is not what I expected.” She was wearing a very flowy skirt and a large belt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Greg turned to her, breathing hard. His polo shirt was drenched in sweat. “It’s hella cathartic.” He said, smiling at her. “Wanna try throwing a plate?” Maria blushed slightly. And Alex tried not to roll his eyes. Greg did know she was taken right?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have terrible aim.” Maria laughed. “But judging by this mess I’d guess the same goes for you two. Have you eaten at all today?” she asked, putting her hand on Alex’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alex grinned at her. “No <em>mom</em>, we’ve been busy.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maria did not hold back <em>her</em> eye roll. “Okay, okay, starve for all I care.” but she was smiling. “I have to go deal with some stuff at Sunset Mesa. Long story. I just wanted to check on you first. Happy purging!” And with that, she was off again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She hasn’t changed much since high school,” Greg commented.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You hardly knew her in high school,” Alex said as he tossed the microwave into the dumpster. It made a large crash. “It’s not like I ever had her over to the house.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Greg shrugged. “She’s dating Michael now, right? What’s up with that?” Alex was silent. Then he gave the coffee maker a pretty hard throw and it clanged and crashed into the dumpster, which was quickly filling up. They worked in silence for a bit after that. Greg didn’t push things. He hadn’t said anything about Michael since Crash Con. Alex had been so focused on Jesse’s death he hadn’t even had time to start overthinking that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By five o’clock the brothers were well and truly exhausted. Greg went inside to get beers. The dumpster was full to the brim and the first floor of the house was nearly empty. The prosthetic was starting to feel normal again. With each toss of one of his father’s belongings into the dumpster Alex, more and more, began to understand what Greg had meant by feeling lighter. It’s as if he was not only being weighed down by his father, but by his father’s house. A place where Alex had always felt trapped. He was sitting on the couch in the grass when Greg came back out of the house, holding a cold six-pack.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Huh, beer on an empty stomach. Maybe Maria had a point.” Alex laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Greg smiled at him, holding out a bottle. “You’re looking better.” He said. “I have good ideas sometimes.” Alex laughed again. It felt good. “We’ll eat a big dinner,” Greg said, sipping his beer. “Need energy. For tomorrow we tackle… the second floor!” He pointed up at the house dramatically. Alex rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, and the shed,” Greg said, nonchalantly. “That’s all garbage.” The smile slid from Alex’s face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Woah. Wad’t I say?” Greg asked. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing.” Alex started, but then stopped to drink more beer. “I uh. I can do that myself. I know you have to get back work.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Greg looked at him oddly. “Actually I have the week off. You know, death in the family and all. I’m grieving.” he said sarcastically. Alex smiled at that. Greg seemed different somehow. He didn’t use to be this cheerful. Alex liked it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I’m gonna go watch tv for a bit,” Greg said stretching and hurling his empty beer into the dumpster. “You didn’t throw <em>that</em> out did you?” Alex shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They headed back into the house. Greg closed the front door but didn’t lock it. He plopped down in a folding chair in the living room and Alex wandered around for a bit. He kept coming to the steps to upstairs, but couldn’t bring himself to climb them. He and Greg would tackle that later. Together. He heard his brother laughing in the other room and smiled to himself. Alex was glad that Gregory seemed to at peace with what had happened. Today had felt good, but Alex didn’t feel like he was there yet. Tearing apart the house had helped to keep his mind off things, but now that quiet was subsiding. He stepped out into the back yard and allowed himself a moment to think about the one thing he had been ignoring. The Shed. <em>Michael.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alex Manes took a slow step through the door of the shed. It looked like a weird museum exhibit, oddly preserved and silent. Nothing had changed at all. The same posters up on the wall, the same cot with the same old blankets. The same tools on the tool bench. He stood in the middle of the small room in silence for a long time. This place was once such a sanctuary. His place. It was warm. Private. He used to think nothing could touch him there. It was a mere 20 feet from the house and yet he used to think it was so far away. He’s been such a fool. 20 feet was nothing. The door didn’t even lock. He had brought him here. It was all his fault. Even now he cringed at the thought, scrunching up his eyes and clenching his fists he waited for it to pass but it didn’t. <em>There’s this tool shed out behind my house. It’s warm and I go there when things get bad. </em>Two sentences. That was all it took. Alex shook his head and stomped down on the floor. It creaked. Just like everything else in this damn place. He stomped again and again and again! Until the feeling finally subsided. Good things had happened here too. Why couldn’t he focus on that? It was all so stupid. His grandfather built this place. It had fucking antlers all over the ceiling. And he had thought it was an escape? Had held onto it all these years. This shed was Manes through and through. And so was he. The one amazing thing that happened here, would never be enough to outweigh the bad. He knew that he needed to let it go once and for all. Because he could no longer separate the good from the bad in his head. But still, he stood there. Not moving. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t destroy this place like he and Greg had destroyed the house. He didn’t want to be, but he was still holding on. He was about to leave when he heard a knock at the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.” It was him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey,” Alex replied, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and looking at the ground. Why was he here? Had he talked to Maria? Michael walked toward him, swinging his arms awkwardly. He looked like Guerin. The new nicer jacket was gone and he was wearing an old leather one. His shirt was threadbare at the top. Alex quickly looked away again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maria made me bring food over.” He said. That explained that. “I gave it to Gregory.” Alex smiled slightly and looked down again. This was the first time they had been together in this place since… Alex glanced reflexively down at Michael’s hand, which was still covered. There was some awkward silence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He seems to be holding up okay.” Michael continued, looking up at Alex who was busying himself staring at the far wall. Alex closed his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be in here with him. Why did Maria send him? She wasn’t an inconsiderate person. Did she not understand that it hurt too much. Being with Michael, being apart from him. Why did she encourage moments like this between her boyfriend and his ex? Alex couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep using Michael for comfort when he knew he couldn’t be with him. Not with Maria, not with his last name. It was all so hopeless. And yet he couldn’t help himself. Michael <em>was</em> here, and Alex wanted to confide in him. Maybe it was today, hanging with Gregory and working together to dismantle their father’s memory, but Alex didn’t want to hold onto this pain anymore. He was finally ready for a way out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Everything my family touches turns to crap,” he said. Michael moved toward him slightly, gazing into his face. Unbidden Alex was struck with a memory. <em>I never look away not really. </em>He took a deep breath and looked around the room. Anywhere but at Michael, who continued to look directly at him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My dad used to talk about how my Grandpa Harlan built this shed with his bare hands when he was like 70.” Michael looked down at that and Alex followed his line of sight to a very familiar-looking hammer, sitting on top of the old mini-fridge. “For a long time, it was my safest space.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked up at him again. “And then one night…” Alex continued. He forced himself to make eye contact with Michael as he finished, “my dad destroyed it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael shifted on his feet and Alex watched him, hoping he’d say something. Anything. Alex knew he shouldn’t but he wanted to be comforted. Michael had never been very good at that. Unless you counted kissing. And that was out of the question now. Michael didn’t speak yet, but he did reach with his bandana wrapped hand and pick up the hammer. Alex stared down at Michael’s hands as he held the tool that had doomed them to this fate, almost like it was a precious object. Then he spoke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re right.” He looked around the shed and then at Alex, whose heart was beating very loudly. He wondered absently if Michael could hear it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael held the hammer out to him and nodded slightly. “This place sucks.” Alex took the handle and they stood there for a moment, holding onto the hammer together. And it was odd. Alex did feel comforted. He also felt ready. Michael must have sensed it somehow. Maybe he had noticed the state of the house. He picked up an ax and the two men stood for a moment, looking at each other, then they turned. And got to work.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and Comments are very much appreciated! Come squeal with me on tumblr at malex-art!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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